Good Hands
by Lady ot Rings
Summary: Being the meeting of Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth and Éomer, King of Rohan, and the events of their life together.
1. Good Hands

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue...please.

A/N: You may have seen this fic under Sinny's name. The reason it changed is because she's my friend and was so kind to post this story for me. But now I have an ID so look for it under Lady ot Rings from now on. Also, I've edited this chapter a little bit for reasons that really annoyed me. Anywho, here it is!

The waves gently broke upon the shores of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel breathed in the salty air, as she stood barefoot on the beach. The Sea truly was beautiful.

And Lothíriel didn't have to fear to look at it, didn't have to fear ships coming that would destroy her home. The War of the Ring was over and the Dark Lord had been vanquished. Then Lothíriel smiled. Her father, the Prince Imrahil, was due back today from political talks with the lost King of Gondor and Arnor, Aragorn Elessar. She ran into the Sea, not caring that the hems of her skirts got wet. She only cared that she didn't have to fear anymore.

The Prince rode in from the North with an entourage of guards. Lothíriel heard the neighs of the horses from her balcony and ran through the castle to meet them. When her father dismounted, she ran to him and hugged him tightly.

"Oh," Imrahil said affectionately, "my Thiri. How did you fare during my absence?"

She let go of him and said, "I missed you, Father. Dol Amroth isn't home without its Prince to preside over it. How was the King?"

"Good. The talks went well and Gondor shall soon resurrect their old ties with Rohan. But I must tell you something inside."

The pair went inside and the Prince was met with many glowing faces, especially one. Calaer, Lothíriel's serving maid and Imrahil's good friend, hugged him tightly as well.

"I see Thiri has taught you well in the art of choking your Prince," he choked out. "I must see to stopping that."

"What was it you wanted to speak to me of?" Lothíriel asked later in the evening. She and her father were in their sitting room pleasantly drinking tea. "I pray it is good tidings." Her long dark hair shone in the firelight.

Imrahil sighed. "I'm leaving again."

Lothíriel could hardly believe what she heard. "Leaving? But you just returned! Surely nothing is amiss and you need to set out so soon and--"

"I want you to come."

The princess stopped immediately. "Where?"

Imrahil smiled. "To Rohan. I have a friend there, King Éomer, who was unable to come to the talks in Minas Tirith. He sent a messenger to tell us about the farings of Rohan and to tell him about the talks, but I still want to visit him."

"You don't trust the messenger."

"I only miss the man. Éomer is a good man and deserves all the blessings he receives. And he also told me of his interest to meet you. I told him about Dol Amroth when I could and he was immersed in my tellings. Will you come with me?"

Thiri was still shocked that she could possibly be going somewhere. Somewhere important. "Of course! And Calaer has to come, too."

The next day, preparations were made for father and daughter and maid to set out. To make a boring and long part of the story short, they left and arrived in Edoras with no hitches. It was evening when they arrived and the King planned a feast for the three. There was a lot of good food and much laughter between Imrahil and Éomer and even Lothíriel and Calaer had a good time though they only knew each other.

Calaer was looking at Éomer quite a lot actually. "The King is handsome, My Lady. Any girl would be lucky to have him." Calaer was also of Dol Amroth. She came from a family that had given their services to the house of Imrahil and his ancestors. She was only a few years older than Thiri and like a sister to her and a mother at times. Lothíriel's mother died when she was young. Calaer was the daughter of a fisherman and had a rough accent . "Even I would love to be the Queen if he was my King."

"But Calaer," Thiri said quietly, "he probably is already wed."

"Yet I see no fair lady at his side. You are just so pessimistic, My Lady. Cheer up! And did I tell you that that yellow dress is lovely on you?"

Dinner ended a few minutes later and Éomer approached Lothíriel and Calaer while the other guests were going back to their rooms. He held out his hand to the princess. "May I interrupt your little conversation to take a walk with the Lady of the Sea?"

Calaer replied, "Only if I may come along and make sure that My Lady is comfortable at all times. If you take my meaning, My Lord."

"I assure you, I would do everything in my power to make her comfortable." Éomer said. "Though I do not doubt your words, maid."

Calaer blushed. "You may call me by my name, Calaer, My Lord."

Lothíriel saw that the King wasn't going to get anywhere talking with Calaer, so she accepted Éomer's proposal and the two slipped out of the Hall unseen by all but Calaer. Éomer took Lothíriel outside and they walked in the shadows so that no ugly rumors would be spread about them being together. Finally, they reached the back of Meduseld where very few people ventured.

"You will have to excuse the lack of seating out here, My Lady," Éomer said. "I always liked the ground better." As Thiri leaned against the back of the building, she realized she couldn't think of anything to say. This man seemed much more casual than she expected and so she was speechless. "I do not find fault with you. The view, even in the light of the moon, is greater than when I first arrived. You truly were lucky to have grown up here, My Lord." As the princess looked over at Éomer, she saw that his eyes weren't as joyful as they were earlier in the evening. They seemed to hold an untold pain.

"My Lord, did I say something-" Thiri was cut off when the King turned away and spoke to her in a tone she wished she had never heard.

"If only you had known what my childhood was like. My father was barely ever home, always away hunting orcs. Éowyn and I couldn't stay outside for long periods of time because Mother feared that orcs may come and attack at any given moment. And when I was eleven and Éowyn seven, we received word my father had been killed on one of his scouts. Not long after that, our mother died of grief. So to say I had time to enjoy the view would be folly. I lived in constant fear and anger of those creatures, and still do."

As soon as he said this, he wanted to take it back, for Lothíriel looked at him as if he wasn't the King of Rohan, but someone who had just come from a savage land. "My Lady, I-"

"Please, accept my apology; I had no idea you had to live like that," Thiri said quickly.

Éomer waved his hand at her, dismissing the request. "It is I who should be apologizing, not you, My Lady. I should not have spoken to you in that tone, I had no right." The king turned his back on Thiri, ashamed of his actions. But she soon let go of her fear and walked up to his retreated form and spoke to him.

"I accept, My Lord. But do not feel alone with your feelings." At this, Éomer turned around with curiosity at what Lothíriel would say next. "When I was young, ten years old to be exact, I lost my mother to the elements. She was swimming near the shore and later caught cold. It turned into pneumonia soon after and we lost her in the night. For a few years following that incident, I wouldn't set foot in the water for fear I may also leave the Circles of the World. But I've gotten over that now and understand to take care of myself. I've done that for thirteen years after her death."

Éomer lowered his eyes trying to think of something to say, but Thiri's words left him feeling slightly better, knowing he found someone of royalty who wasn't perfect. As he raised his head again, he began to thank her for coming, but his face went pale seconds later.

"My Lord," Lothíriel asked, concerned, "what is-" She was cut off when a cold object made its way to her throat and her hair was grasped roughly, forcing her head back. A cold voice said, "You say one wrong word or make one wrong move and her blood is on your hands. Now, down on your knees, King."

Éomer didn't respond immediately, angered by the fact that the princess could be killed and shocked that he was found off his guard. Because of his delay, the knife that was held up to Thiri's throat was pushed into her skin, causing a tiny rivulet of crimson to slide down her neck. Also, two men in dark clothing came up behind the king and roughly pushed him into a kneeling position. "Bind his hands and feet," the man behind Thiri ordered (he seemed to be the leader), "and don't try anything careless, for your Lady's sake."

Lothíriel could feel her heart racing in her chest and hoped these men couldn't detect it in her. As they tied him up, everything became a blur for her, though she couldn't be sure if it was the shock of the situation or the realization that the knife was still cutting into her neck, making more blood drip down her neck. Her eyes closed of their own will and she started to fall forward. She never remembered hitting the earth.

The light breeze roused Lothíriel in the middle of the night. She sat up, only to find herself in the thick of a small forest. Looking up she couldn't see anything, which meant that the treetops were very dense. Since her hair was in her face, she brushed it away and continued to rub her neck, hopefully to relieve the tension in her body. But when her hands ran into a sticky substance she remembered everything about the knife to her throat and the men in black and--

"Éomer!" she said to herself. She frantically looked around in the dark, hoping he would be there. "My Lord!" she said a bit louder, this time getting a response.

"My Lady?" The voice was hoarse, but unmistakably Éomer's.

"Éomer! Where are you?"

"Behind you, My Lady." Lothíriel turned in that direction and crawled in front a tree where she found the king. His hands and feet were still bound by the nasty rope and even in the darkness, she could see that he was bleeding.

"Would you mind trying to loose these things? I am a little helpless."

Lothíriel immediately looked at his bound wrists behind his back and set to work with her nails. That didn't work right away so she looked around for something sharp. There was a fat chance that she would find anything, but strangely, a sharp stone was laying next to the king. It was white stone and hand carved. Thiri quickly picked it up and soon the bonds were cut.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to take in all that had happened. Then Éomer said, "My Lady, this was not how the evening was supposed to play out."

"Understood. We must get our bearings before...we...oh, bother it all. We are lost!" Lothíriel stood up in irritation, bumped her head on a low tree branch, and sat down again. Éomer noticed all this.

"'Twould be best not to do that again, My Lady. It is bad for the head and the tree."

Thiri rubbed her head and said, "Éomer, since I am calling you by your name, the least you can do is call me by my name in return. I really do not think the trees will mind. I suppose we'll have to wait for the morning to tell which way is north. If only I could see the stars...at least Earendil, then we could move out faster."

"Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," Éomer said, "you are truly one of the Sea."

That night went surprisingly quickly and uneventful for the two royalties. The next morning, one could see the sunshine through the trees and realize that they were very close to the edge of the forest. Lothíriel woke up right when the sun peeked through a gap of trees and some light fell on her face. Sitting up, she saw that Éomer had been up longer than her because he was walking around, looking through the trees and nodding to himself.

Thiri finally got up and joined him where he stood. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Éomer didn't look at her when he answered. "It appears that we are south of Edoras because I can see it from here."

He pointed across a grassy plain to what looked like a miniature city, almost toy-like to Thiri's eyes; it was so far away. "I do believe we are on the slopes of the White Mountains. Ered Nimrais." Finally, the king looked at Lothíriel and noticed her bloody neck. "I found a stream nearby where you can wash that off."

They traveled a few minutes to the edge of the trees where a small stream trickled down from the rocks and collected in a puddle a few feet down. As Lothíriel was washing up, Éomer watched her with almost unblinking eyes. Thiri did not appear to him as a spoiled, whining, selfish court lady, but a generous, quiet, loving daughter. She also was as beautiful as the sunset beyond the Sea on a day free of any bad weather. She had long, black hair that fell gracefully down her back, except when it was put up in elegant braids or knots, as it was now. Lothíriel finished and all that was left as evidence of the capture the night before was a thin cut in her fair skin.

"We seem very close to where we were captured," Thiri said as they walked back to the woods. "Do you think our captors weren't very bright?"

Éomer sighed as he sat back down (he had indeed been beaten pretty hard to become unconscience and was tired) and later said, "The plan may have been foiled or not fully carried out yet. It would be best to keep an eye out." He tried to get back up and found that he was so sore and exhausted that it wouldn't happen any time soon. "Er...this is very odd for me, but I can't seem to get up. Would you mind to help me?"

Lothíriel didn't rebel at all and immediately was at Éomer's side, pulling on his huge, muscular arm to get him off the ground. "You have a strong grip, Lothi, if I may call you that," Éomer said.

"Lothi? I haven't heard that one before. Yes, you may call me that. And thank you for the compliment about my brute strength." She flexed her relatively small arm muscle and acted as if it were huge, which put a pleasant smile on Éomer's face. "Father thought I should at any rate be able to lift some things a little bit heavier than myself. And my little brother, Amrothos."

"We should be on the move. Now that Edoras is in sight, we musn't waste time. We don't want to travel during the night." Éomer was about to move onward when the pair heard twigs crunching in the distance. Their breath caught in their throats, for they feared the worst. Éomer looked at Thiri with a grim look in his eyes and motioned for her to give him the stone knife she had found. As soon as she obeyed, he threw the knife in the direction of the noise and was rewarded with a sick thump as the knife hit flesh. Then the voices arose. Male voices.

Éomer took Thiri by the wrist and ran toward Edoras, getting them as far away from the voices as possible. They reached the edge of the grove of trees and started to slide down the rocky slope when a rider in dark clothes speedily cut them off from escape. His face was blocked from view by a large hood, but his voice was clear as a rippling spring. It was not the same man from before.

"Ah! Look at this, a little lord with his little lady," the man said. He lifted his head up as two men on a horse came up behind Éomer and Lothíriel. "Where's Springer?"

A man behind answered, "This so-called King killed him. And with my own knife!" The leader looked back at Éomer. "You killed Dograth's horse. Surely a horse-lord such as yourself would rather kill himself than a horse. Fool. Argrone," he looked back to his friend, "if Dograth feels like killing the king, do not discourage him and do not let the lady--" But he was interrupted as Lothíriel quickly ran up behind the leader's horse and roughly slapped its rump so that it reared and caused its rider to fall off. She took this oppurtunity and heaved herself onto the horse as soon as it had landed on its hooves again. Taking one last look at Éomer before she rode off, she saw that the two behind him had already dismounted and were trying to kill him, beating him again, but this time with rocks and sword hilts. Thiri urged the horse on. If she could help it, Éomer would not die.

The horse was still startled and angry after his slapping and didn't take lightly to having a new rider. So Thiri had a bit of a troubled time getting the horse to obey. When he finally did, they were at the gates of Edoras and they swung open. One of the guards must have recognized her. The next thing she knew, she was racing up the stone steps and swinging the doors open to reveal the interior of Meduseld. Calaer was the first to see her and ran to embrace her. "Where have you been? What happened to your neck? Why are you alone? Is something wrong with the king? Where is he?" These questions and more spilled out of her mouth as Thiri yelled, "Éomer is out there and needs our help!" Servants who worked came rushing to the dark-haired woman and started to crowd around her, but she somehow found her way from their tight circle and approached the only other person who wasn't trying to smother her.

"Father," Thiri cried out to the Prince, "he needs our help! Will you at least help him without coming to me first? He needs us--"

"I heard," came the quiet reply before he turned on his heel and shot out the building toward the stables. Calaer came to Thiri. "My Lady, your neck--"

"Off me!" Thiri cried, annoyed. She turned to the rest of the Rohirrim gathered and said, "Will you not help your King? He'll die if we don't help him!"

Finally, a group of armed men was saddling their horses and following Thiri's lead along with Imrahil barking orders at them. The ride toward the mountains seemed even longer for Thiri than when she had ridden in haste to Meduseld, so her mind formulated terrible scenarios of what to find of Éomer if they came too late. She had been given a fresh horse after "borrowing" the other one and using all of his energy, one that did obey her. Thiri wasn't the best rider, but with the adrenaline pumping through her veins, anything was possible.

Then she saw him.

"Éomer!" she cried. "Behind you!" One of the men was indeed behind the King and about decapitate him with his sword, but one of the Rohirrim threw his spear at the attacker and brought him down. Lothíriel dismounted when she reached the edge of the rocks and bent down next to Éomer. She had arrived before the others and had only a few moments in private with Éomer to say some things. But before she could, she saw how badly the men, who ran back to the mountains when the Rohirrim came running, had threatened his life. His left temple was bleeding and his hands werecovered in cuts and bruises already beginning to appear. Worst of all, Thiri noted, he was hunched over and grabbing at his sides. "Éomer," she lamented. "How could they do this to you?"

He barely lifted his head to look at her and choked out, "They didn't do it to you. And that's all that matters." Suddenly, all strength seemed to leave him and he fell onto his side.

Lothíriel placed a damp cloth on Éomer's forehead as he slept. She had been tended to when they returned to the Golden Hall by ever-faithful Calaer and now tended to the King of Rohan. No one seemed to mind, of course, their thoughts were often elsewhere, especially on the attackers whom had been captured. It turned out that they were some rebellious Rohirrim who were angry with the fact that the second line of Kings was ended at Pelennor Fields with the death of Théoden King. These men simply didn't have an outlet for their anger and would most likely spend many years in mining camps for the Dwarves in the Glittering Caves of Helms Deep.

Éomer's eyes slowly fluttered open when Thiri checked the bandages on his hands. "Surely I have died to see such beauty before my eyes," he said quietly. "Or else, some Elvish beauty has found its way into the Halls of my forebears without my permission."

Thiri bowed her head and blushed. He was wooing her! And working, she thought. After fidgeting with his bandages needlessly, she looked back to him and said, "It is said that the line of the Princes of Dol Amroth has Elvish blood in it. My father is Galador's direct descendant through twenty- one generations. Galador was Half-Elven; his mother was the Elf-maid, Mithrellas, or so 'tis said. So it is possible that some Elvish magic has sneaked past your gates, Éomer." She gave him a smile that also set a twinkle in her eyes.

The King tried to laugh, but then stopped when his chest began to ache uncontrollably. Lothíriel saw this and immediately came closer to his face to try to comfort him. "I'm sorry, My Lord, I should have told you before I said anything else."

He looked at her quizzically while also trying to hide the obvious pain he was feeling.

"You have a broken rib, but it's not too bad. According to the healer, it will heal soon, but you need to rest and stay in good hands." Only when Éomer looked into her eyes, did she notice how close she was to him.

He raised his left arm and traced her chin with his fingers. "Are those 'good hands' yours?" Lothíriel began to shake ever so slightly and closed her eyes. She had a feeling that something big was going to happen soon. She wondered what her older brothers, Elphir and Erchirion, would do if they saw her right now. "Lothi?" Éomer's voice brought her back to the present and she opened her eyes to see that he had a genuine look of concern etched in his features.

"Is everything all right?" She nodded.

"Did your father tell you why I asked you here?"

"He said that he told you stories about home and that you were interested in meeting me."

Éomer moved his hand to the edge of her jawline and the side of her neck, now covered by a silk scarf to hide the cut on her neck. "That is true. And it is also true that this kingdom of mine is in need of a queen. I would be honored if you were to fill that role."

Thiri winced inwardly. "I figured as much. When you asked me to walk with you after that feast, I knew something was up." She placed her hand on his. "Father was right. You're a good man, Éomer. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

He just looked at her with a blank expression. Finally, he asked her, "The proposal wasn't good, was it?"

The new expression on his face made Thiri smile. "No! No, not at all!" She bowed her head to keep from laughing.

"I just didn't expect it coming from a bed-ridden man." She smirked in his direction. But she almost forgot that his hand was still in its current position until she felt her head being pulled down to Éomer's own. Thiri didn't have time to think before her lips made contact with his in a passionate kiss, the first the couple ever had.

When they finally parted, Éomer asked, "Did you expect that from a bed- ridden man?"

The Princess of Dol Amroth grinned from ear to ear. "You're in good hands, My Lord!"


	2. Gull Feathers

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my interpretation on how this lovely couple met. Oh, and I own Calaer, Ramniel, and the beautiful mousepad with Frodo and Sam on it...but that's pretty much it. Please don't sue me! I love reviewers!

Well, your reviews and wishes for more have gotten to me! I guess when an idea hits you, it will haunt you till you either write it down or think about it so much that it gets annoying.

**Volinde:** I honestly don't think I could ever write in Tolkien's style because his had something to it that I'll probably never be able to capture. And I don't mind a bit. I'm glad you liked it! Hopefully you'll like this, too! Oh! I read your bio and it said you wanted to try archery. I'm in it with a shooting sports club in 4-H and it is so fun! So if you have a club near you, try and join! It's especially fun once you get the hang of it which is relatively quickly . Hope that helps!

**Haldir's Heart and Soul:** Like I said above, your wish got to me! Here you go! Hope you enjoy it and keep reviewing! I like reviews!

**Eokat:** I really love Éomer and Lothíriel and had to write something for them since Tolkien never did. And thanks for pushing me to write more with just one more comment! You're right, Éomer does deserve a category for fanfic, especially after everything he went through like the War of the Ring and what some fanfic writers do to him...::shudders::

**Kristen:** Thank you so much! I love it when people like my work that I slaved away on for months seriously! Here you go!

**Ranwen:** I see you've put my story on your favorites! You like me! You really like me! You thought it was adorable? I did too! And I have a feeling it's going to get even more adorable with the coming chapters...but I can't tell you what they're about, now can I?

And...**sinny3:** Yes! I'm saying something to you even though I see you almost every day! Thanks for putting this up here and for supporting my obsession with the best book trilogy imho ever written and put on film! Pep Band is the best...and Lurtz is Hott!

A/N: This takes place a few weeks after chapter one in the year 3021, 2 years after Éowyn and Faramir's wedding. And while surfing on the wonderful Encyclopedia of Arda, I noticed that Lothíriel's brother, Amrothos, comes on the family tree before she does. I guess this means that he's older and if that is true, then just consider the part in the first chapter about Amrothos being the little brother a teensy weensy bit AU. Now, enough with the chit chat and on with the story!

Preparations were being made in Meduseld for King Éomer's wedding as Lothíriel sat before one of the fireplaces in the Hall. The wedding was to take place tomorrow and Lothi was relieved to be out in the freedom of the Hall instead of cooped up in her room with Calaer chatting away. All of their belongings had been brought back from Dol Amroth and they began to feel at home in Rohan, much to Éomer's happiness, for he would hate to see his beloved unhappy. He had told her that after they were wed she would always be welcome to take leave and go home to see the Sea again. That thought brought a smile to her lips; the King may have been one of the fiercest warriors in the Mark, but he was also a gentle man who cared deeply for all he loved.

Then Lothi grinned even wider when she heard familiar voices echo in the Hall. She turned around and saw her family standing at the entrance, impressed with the progress of the decorating. She was about to go to them when a hand rested on her shoulder. "What do you think of the trimmings?" Éomer looked down at his wife-to-be and awaited her answer.

Lothi looked around and saw the green banners of Rohan hanging next to the blue banners of Dol Amroth, each embroidered with either a white swan or white horse. The pillars had wide white ribbons around them and shone when any kind of light reflected off of it. "It's gorgeous, just like I dreamed of as a child...only near the Sea, not Edoras." "And you always wanted to have gull feathers in your hair," a new voice said.

Lothi winced as her long-time secret was out of the bag. And her father had to be the one to say it. Turning around slowly, she said through clenched teeth, "It's good to see you, too, Father."

He laughed loudly. "Thiri, my Thiri. With that answer I am afraid that I shall always be under the threat of your wrath!" He hugged her tightly and despite her embarrassment, smiled anyway. She heard her brothers come up behind their father and ran to them.

"Elphir! How long has it been? How is Ramniel?" Ramniel was Elphir's wife for three years now.

Elphir smiled at his wife's name. "It has been too long, sister. Now you're following in my footsteps, I see. Ramniel is wonderful, as always. You should know that."

Lothi looked skeptically at Elphir, he seemed too happy for this one occasion. "Why is she not here? Is she sick?"

Elphir glanced at his other brothers before returning his gaze on his sister. "She's at home. Tending to the new addition of our little family." He could barely contain his excitement. "His name is Alpros."

Lothi stood in shock for a moment before the realization of becoming an aunt hit her. She gave a joyful shout and jumped into her brother's arms, while he twirled her around like the little girl she still was to him. Éomer walked up to the siblings and said, half-teasingly, "Now, now. Pretty soon I'll be the only one who can do that, so don't spoil the fun for me!"

"Ah," Erchirion spoke for the first time, "but she is our favorite sister."

Elphir set Lothi down right before she answered, "I'm your only sister, silly. And you," she turned to Éomer, "stop being so protective." She looked at him and winked subtly. "You're starting to sound like them!" Lothi gestured to her family.

Éomer jumped with surprise when he felt a light punch on his arm. "Yes, you need to stop being so overprotective of everyone!" He looked over his shoulder and saw the golden hair of no other than his sister, Éowyn.

A heavily pregnant Éowyn.

Éomer pulled his sister into a gentle embrace and lightly kissed the top of her golden head. Just for her to hear, he said, "You're a month away, sister. It is not wise to be up and about in your...'condition'." He smirked at her when she looked up at him, slightly offended.

"Well," she answered confidently, "be so kind as to tell me who, out of the two of us, was wed first. Then, speak to me of 'condition'."

Éomer shortly said, "No." He looked behind his sister and saw none other than her husband. "Lord Faramir! Welcome back to Rohan! I see you have let my sister have her way, much to my disappointment." Smiling, he led all of his guests to the numerous benches seated before the fireplaces.

Still speaking with Éomer, Faramir defended himself by blaming everything on his wife. "You know her, My Lord. She likes to get her way. And she also told me that you are her favorite brother and she wouldn't miss this wedding for the world...or the birth of our child!"

Éomer laughed whole-heartedly. As the two Lords spoke, Lothi went to the kitchens to see if there was anything to sneak before lunch was served. She walked through the hallways, bustling with people, until she found a familiar face at the soon to be scene of the crime.

"Lady Éowyn!" she whispered urgently. The expectant criminal nearly dropped a handful of cherry tomatoes when she realized that she had been caught in the act. Once she realized it was only Lothíriel, she sighed in relief. At least in wasn't one of the cooks or she would have gotten a tongue-lashing.

"Lady Lothíriel," Éowyn nearly gasped out, "you surprised me! But now that my secret love of stealing food from the kitchen is out, I fear I must kill you immediately, lest you report to the authorities!" She saw that Lothi was slightly appalled and smiled at her to show that she was joking. "Tomato?" Éowyn offered.

Smiling, Lothi gladly took the stolen food and looked at Éowyn's swollen belly. "So you're a month off from getting rid of that burden."

Éowyn glanced at her stomach and smiled. "I don't call it a burden. Nay, 'tis a blessing. For I know that this babe has been created because of mine and Faramir's love. But to be honest, I am getting a little anxious. The child can ask for too much every time it--" At that moment, the life inside of Éowyn's womb forced a kick and took the White Lady by complete surprise, causing her to lose her grasp of the tomatoes. Lothi saw it coming and quickly held out her hands and caught the stolen items.

Éowyn leaned against a wall and sighed. "Every time it does that. Thank you for catching those!" She motioned to the tomatoes that Lothi was holding and let her have a few. So they walked out of the kitchen and into one of the dimly lit hallways where Éowyn continued the conversation.

"I take it you already have a dress for tomorrow? If so, I would love to see it!" Lothi took Éowyn into her room where the wedding gown was hanging up in an unused corner. It was in a princess line style, with a fitted bodice and A- line skirt. The gown itself was made of white satin and the thick hem was made of a dark green velvet. The sleeves were bell-shaped and also hemmed with the green velvet and the neckline was embroidered with swirls of silver thread.

Éowyn studied the dress in awe and spoke slowly in reply. "This is absolutely gorgeous! Where did you get it?"

"Éomer had it made a few days after he was well enough to tell everyone of our betrothal." Lothi smiled, happy that her soon to be sister-in-law loved the gown. "A seamstress near Edoras made it in just a little more than a week."

"'Tis a beautiful thing," The White Lady said to herself.

"I know. When the dress arrived I was so excited that I barely kept myself from shoving everyone out of the way just to get to it!"

Éowyn let out a quiet giggle. "As much as I believe you, it wasn't the dress I was speaking of."

Lothi stopped smiling and looked at Éowyn with a questioning glance. "Then what were you speaking of, may I ask?"

"Love. Five years ago, I never would have thought of such a thing, but Faramir showed me a different view on it. He showed me that it doesn't matter what everyone thinks of us, just as long as we love each other. And look at us now! Happily married and awaiting the birth of our son or daughter. I can't possibly be any happier. Now Éomer has found love in a woman from the shore." She winked at Lothi.

"What is he like? I mean, what would he do for those he loves?"

"He loves you, Lothíriel. He will fight for you if it ever comes down to that, and even die for you. He has always been that way for me and I don't see why he wouldn't do it for the love of his life. He is generous, both in politics and love, and cares first and foremost for his family, friends, and people. If you are having pre-wedding doubts, Lothíriel, stop now for it will do you no good in the morning!"

The two women laughed merrily and didn't notice Calaer slip in, looking for her princess. "And just what is so funny that you have to make a racquet about it?"

Lothi and Éowyn looked at the maid and laughed even louder at her obliviousness. "Oh, nothing important," Lothi said after catching her breath. "Let's go back out to the fesitivities, shall we?" The trio made their way back to the Hall and sat down on the benches, Lothi next to Éomer, Éowyn next to Faramir, and Calaer next to Imrahil. As the conversation between Éomer and Faramir died down, Lothi heard a voice in her ear, belonging to Éomer.

"Gull feathers, eh?"

Just for the record, yes, Éowyn has better table manners than Papa Denethor. She can actually eat a tomato or a grape without painting her face with the juice!


	3. Wedding Bells

**Disclaimer:** Ok, I actually don't own anything you recognize. Are you shocked? So am I. I only own Calaer. Yep, that's it.

**A/N:** First off, I didn't really "write" this, that honor belongs to my lovely sis, Dimyavie, but I did add some of my ideas into it. I experience nearly a year of writer's block and for that I am deeply sorry and hope I haven't lost any of my readers. Also, you may have noticed that this story is now on a different name. Sinny, my dear friend, has been kind enough to post my stories for me on her name for a while, but now I have a new name and you need to look for this story under that name. Well, I'm sure you're bored now, so I'll just get to the reviews!

**Eokat:** What can I say? You've been very helpful andare a very good writer yourself. Well, here's your chapter where they are finally wed!

**Beling:** Thank you for the tips, I will keep them in mind!

**SilentBanshee:** Thank you also for the tips, I will try to explain a little bit more in later chapters!

**Magsluvsaragorn:** I hope you enjoy this chapter too, sorry about the wait, though. And I agree with your outlook on Éomer, very easy on the eyes indeed, hehehe.

**Natters:** Thank you for reviewing, it is much appreciated.

**dimyavie:** Once more I cannot thank you enough! And as some kind of chance to "repay" you…

**Dedication:** …this chapter is dedicated to you! For putting up with me for so long (including the 5 Mountain Dews) and writing a fanfic on a time period in Middle-earth that you don't really know about. It's great, I assure you so don't doubt yourself anymore!

Lothiriel struggled to stay still as Calaer and other maids went about her, fixing her hair, fluffing her dress. It had been that way since the morning, when she had awoken and gone to get breakfast. She had barely had time to eat before she was whisked off to her room. She hadn't even been able say a quick "Good morning," to her love. Upon saying this to Calaer she had received a quick if not shocked response. "No, of course not my Lady, 'tis bad luck to see the groom before a wedding!" After which she had been told to stand still. Thus here she was in her current state, bordering on the edge of agitation. To try and counteract her negative feelings Lothiriel began do daydream. In just a few hours she would be married. And she wanted to look beautiful for him. For that, she could stand still for another few minutes, but only just a few.

Meanwhile, Eomer was pacing in the hall. Some servants were busily putting up last minute decorations and rushing back and forth from the kitchens, he watched as they carried out their tasks, momentarily wishing that he had such a task. Currently, he had nothing to do and that just made him nervous. His pacing was interrupted however, when a messenger came up to him and announced that he King and Queen were just about to arrive at the Golden Hall. "Finally," Eomer thought, "something to do." With that, the ruler of Rohan left his hall and headed for the gate.

The sound of horse's hooves upon the ground announced the arrival of Aragorn and Arwen, the King and Queen of Gondor. With them was another guest, one Eomer had never met. Upon seeing the look of bewilderment on the King's face, Aragorn spoke, "Eomer, my friend, meet Radagast the Brown. Normally you would find him with the birds and animals, but with Gandalf unable to attend this ceremony," Aragorn broke for a moment to glance at his wife before continuing, "I took the liberty of asking him to perform the deed, and he graciously accepted."

"My Lord," Radagast spoke, "When I head the King's request I could not say no. It would be an honor and gift to wed you to your love."

"A gift which I am most happy to accept." Eomer replied. "Come, let us go, I will show you to your rooms." The horse-lord led his guests into Edoras, and into the Hall once their horses had been entrusted to a young stable boy. Aragorn and Arwen had looked around the hall taking in the sight of the decorations. A few servants still bustled about here and there, but for the most part the hall was fully decorated. Stunning banners hung from the ceiling, and a wonderful array of candles stood waiting to be lit.

"It is beautiful," Aragorn said to Eomer, "although I doubt that you will remember it, for all I remember is the look of my bride." Arwen smiled and blushed a bit at this, but did not protest.

A servant approached the company then, "My Lord, may I show the guests to their rooms? They must be tired after their long journey and if I may be so bold sir, you still have a wedding to prepare for!"

"Indeed he does," Aragorn laughed. "We leave you to the servants now my friend!" And with a chuckle he departed with his wife, Radagast following.

At once a cluster of servants surrounded the horse-lord, "My Lord, it is almost time! Come," and forcefully dragged the King off to his chambers.

Meanwhile, Lothiriel was quickly becoming impatient; not one who cared for the more "lady-like" things to begin with being treated like a pincushion was not on her list of favorite feelings. "Just a few more minutes, My Lady," said Calaer seeming to pick up on the future queen's distress, "then all that will be left is your hair!" Yet for some reason, that was not an uplifting thought to Lothirie.

The servants that had dragged Eomer into his chambers had finished their task, so the King wandered aimlessly around his vast home. "Lord Eomer!" Came a voice, disrupting him, "What is this, a party! _Your _wedding, and I was not invited?!" Eomer looked toward the voice, and saw Gimli, his Dwarven friend.

He was about to say something but another voice broke in, "Gimli, I told you to calm down, I am sure that our friend simply couldn't find us to give us our invitations." Legolas had entered the room and worked to calm his friend. The Dwarf tried to remain stern but could not keep his smile hidden.

"Congratulations! Does this mean that I have finally won? For now you have your own beauty and can not argue with me over the Evenstar, though Galadriel is still the more beautiful."

Eomer smiled, remembering the old feud. "Aye Master Dwarf, I no longer will argue the beauty of the Evenstar or the Lady Galadriel, yet do not tell Aragorn I said so. Yet we may quarrel still, for now my eyes see only my Lothiriel."

The Dwarf-lord pondered for a moment before responding, "Nay, I will not hold you to that, for love changes men, so I've been told. Now…about this wedding, as a guest of honor I expect only the finest food and ale…" Gimli left off with a twinkle in his eye.

"What's this about food?" Two pairs of eyes turned to see two small figures silhouetted in the doorway. "We heard there was to be a wedding, imagine my surprise when I had to learn this second-hand! Me, an esquire of Rohan hearing of the wedding of his Lord second-hand! I expect at least a pint of ale to cover my distress!" Upon hearing this Eomer's eyes widened. There stood the two hobbits, Pippin with a dreamy look on his face as always and Merry trying to look distressed so that he could have his ale.

"My friends," Eomer struggled for a response, "it appears that my messengers had the same trouble with you as they did with Gimli and Legolas! They could not find you."

The two hobbits looked at the King for a moment before bursting into laughter. Once they had reclaimed so sense of peace, and slaps on the back and hugs had been exchanged Merry looked over at Eomer. "Now, about that ale."

It was finally time. The last guests had taken their seats, the hobbits beside the King and Queen of Gondor with Legolas and Gimli all seated as guests of honor. Eomer stood at the front of the hall, the best of his Rohirrim and his brother-in-law beside him, and feeling more nervous than he was on the day of the last battle. Faramir seemed to sense the King's worries and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Do not worry my brother. Once the bride enters all else will vanish like the wind."

At that moment, a fiddler began to play a slow, melodic tune and three women began to enter; slowly walking through the hall until they reached their desired posts opposite of the King. Eowyn then entered the hall, her robust figure still beautiful, and practically glowing. Her calm eyes tried to soothe her brother's worries, before moving to her husband bringing a soft smile to her face. Then the moment that Eomer had waited for arrived. Lothiriel gracefully entered the hall, respectfully trailed by her father. All eyes turned to her and there were many gasps throughout the crowd. They could not have imagined a finer bride. Her eloquent dress was made of the finest white satin with the deep green velvet highlights and rustled quietly as she walked down the hall; her black hair veiled, but still visible. She took Eomer's breath away. Not even the fair Evenstar matched her at that moment, as he had told Gimli earlier. By now she had reached him and Imrahil placed her hand in Éomer's.

Radagast began the traditional vows, the words formed by the first Rohirrim that announced a couple as man and wife. Eomer tuned him out however, and simple stared at his beautiful bride. He jolted out of his reverie by the yells of the Rohirrim at his side: "KISS HER!" Realizing that Radagast was finished and that he finally _could_ kiss his bride, Eomer quickly heeded the advice.

The party had begun! Lothiriel sat with her husband. _Her_ husband! She couldn't believe it. The day had finally come! Laughter split the air like a resounding bell and there was happiness all around. Glancing at her guests she saw a slightly drunk hobbit making his way toward the table. "I propose a toast!" slurred Pippin, "to the King and Queen of Rohan!"

His proclamation was met with applause and cheers, only to be broken by a Dwarven voice, "Now Master Hobbit, toasts are always well and good, but traditionally the same toast is only made once, not four times!"

The hobbit replied with a laugh, "But then what is the reason to drink?!"

Lothiriel laughed along with the rest of the honored guests at the table. Then, feeling a touch to her hand she looks over into the mesmerizing eyes of her beloved. "May I have this dance my Lady?" In answer she placed her hand in his and followed him out to the empty space set aside for dancing. Lothiriel lost herself in the moment, closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of being held. She laid her head on Eomer's chest, welcoming the beat of his heart; knowing that it belonged to her. What was minutes later but actually seemed like hours, her dance was interrupted. Seeing who it was, she stepped aside and allowed her husband a dance with his sister.

Faramir appeared right after Eowyn interrupted the dance. "It seems that my wife has borrowed your husband. Do you think he would mind if I borrowed you?"

"Not at all, I am glad to accept your invitation." Faramir smiled and led Lothiriel into another dance. "I do not know you nearly as well as I would like, but I hope to remedy that in the future."

"As do I, "Lothiriel replied, "I wish to know you further, and not just from the tales of the war." Faramir blushed at this.

"Ah, Lothi, do not believe in all tales. I am not nearly as fine a man as I am told to be. The honor and courage of your husband though, never doubt that."

"I will never even think of it," responded Lothiriel, "though you should think more of yourself, brother." Faramir grinned.

The dancing continued on, but the two people that the celebration was for were beginning to feel restless. They had enjoyed the company and were deliriously happy, but they were now beginning to wish to be _alone_. They had not really gotten a chance to speak to each other, as they longed to do. A thought then struck Eomer, and he leaned down to his wife's ear while they were enjoying one of their many dances that night. "Do you think they would notice if we made a hasty retreat? The party is not over my love, but I wish to be with you." Lothiriel nodded. Carefully, the pair threaded themselves through the hall and left. Once out, they practically ran to their private chambers. And finally Éomer was able to have his new wife all to himself. The King carried the Queen over the threshold and kicked the door shut.


End file.
